


I Don't Belong Here

by roxyeisen



Series: What Happens Next [3]
Category: The X-Files
Genre: Continuation of finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-30
Updated: 2018-03-30
Packaged: 2019-04-15 00:45:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14148228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roxyeisen/pseuds/roxyeisen
Summary: William's mind reading abilities help him understand Mulder and Scully. He doesn't think this is going to work.*I know this is very "talky" at this point. I'm enjoying the dialogue, because the finale was so lacking in it. It was just running and moving the entire time, while so much went unsaid. I can see this taking on a more adventurous story line. Right now I'm just following where it wants to lead.





	I Don't Belong Here

She’s waiting at the back door for us. You’d think this was some pivotal, amazing moment in all of our lives. But all three of us actually just stand there staring uncomfortably at everything except each other. No one speaks. Mulder and my mother start this weird gazing at each other until Mulder catches me watching them.

“Careful, Scully. Your boy can read minds. He already thinks he has our love life figured out.”

Her eyebrow raises. She looks at me. “Good. Maybe he can explain it to me.”

I laugh outright. I wasn’t expecting her to say that. I always know what people are going to say.

She seems to let go of her awkwardness and comes to me. It’s cute how little she is compared to me. She’s a tiny person with a huge personality. She gives off an intimidating vibe you wouldn’t expect.

Her hug is fierce. And when she looks at me again, her face contorts like she’s going to cry. But she reigns it in and smiles instead. “I’ve waited so long for this, William.”

There’s that name again. These two seem to have forgotten that my name is actually Jackson. But weirdly, I don’t mind. I’m starting to get used to being this guy. William. William Mulder. Named after my grandfather. Or at least the man who should have been my grandfather. Maybe I was meant to be William Mulder all along, and Jackson was just my disguise. My life would make a whole lot more sense if that were true.

As Dana Scully pulls me into the house and immediately sets to work making me a “decent home-cooked meal”, I sit on the couch and watch them in their element. My dad goes to his desk chair and sits, picking up a thick book like he’s trying to keep his mind busy. I smirk at him.

“Green shirt. And you were drinking tea. Also her idea.” I can’t help it. It’s so easy to make him uncomfortable.

“William, cut it out,” he says without looking up. He scans the page a little too urgently, but I still see a few more details I’m sure he wasn’t planning on sharing with me.

“What are you talking about?” My mother tries to hear the conversation from her position in the kitchen, a spatula in hand. “What about tea?”

“Mulder was telling me about your first time,” I call.

“William.” He’s definitely irked now.

She comes to stand in the living room. “What was that?”

“William keeps reading my brain for details about the night he was conceived.”

“Not the night I was conceived.” I remind him. I probably shouldn’t bring that up, but I can’t help it. I’m all about truth. Reality. I don’t like dwelling in the land of fairy tales and miracles.

My mother doesn’t seem as unwilling to share. She gives Mulder a reminiscent smile. “I had just had a run-in with an ex. Mulder and I were talking about fate. Wondering whether life only has one right choice and it takes you where you’re supposed to be. I fell asleep on the couch, but I woke up a few minutes later and–”

“Scully,” Mulder laughs in disbelief.

She shrugs. “What? He’s seventeen.”

Mulder just laughs and looks back at his book.

“He thought you were hot, you know,” I offer. Mulder shakes his head. “Okay, beautiful. He thought you were the most beautiful woman in the world.”

Scully looks at Mulder with accusation. “Funny. He never said that.”

“He also wanted to tell you he loved you about ten times that night.”

“William!” Mulder slams the book down on the desk. Scully just crosses her arms and stares at him. They share a knowing glance that seems to speak a lot more detail than words would.

“This place is a dump.” I lean back on the couch and look around. “Who’s the slob?”

“That would be your father,” my mother says immediately before she returns to the kitchen. Your father. The words slip from her tongue so easily. Like they’ve been saying it for seventeen years. Almost like I was here the whole time. I feel her stab of pain and can't help the guilt. _Who’s son is he?_ She doesn’t voice the question. She just sighs. “I’ve been trying to clean up. But I get tired fast these days.”

Mulder’s watching her intently. I hear a few different questions in his mind. _Is everything okay with the pregnancy? Is she getting enough rest? What do I do to help?_

I don’t say anything else. I just observe. I get kind of sad, too, because being there in their home with them reminds me of my parents.

I expect them to ask me all the inane questions that you might expect from your long lost parents, but they are both quiet. It makes me feel weird. They’re the adults, they should be leading this conversation. It’s pretty clear we are a family of introverts.

“What is all this stuff?” I ask Mulder, gesturing to the piles of books and boxes of files and articles and pictures littering the walls. I get up and walk around, looking at all the little details. Lots of sci-fi stuff. A stack of official looking files labeled “X.” Books on witchcraft. Books on UFOs. Books on futuristic tech and AI and every off-the-wall topic known to man. Or not known to man, as the case may be. I spot a small basketball hoop hanging on the brick fireplace. I grab the ball and attempt a shot, but I miss.

“I was more of a baseball man,” I say, sticking my hands back in my pockets.

“Mulder loves baseball,” Scully says from the kitchen. I see into her head, inside her memory. Standing in the ball pen with Mulder. His arms around her, teaching her to swing. The way it feels to be close to him. To be inside the circle of his arms, and safe.

“Hips before hands, huh,” I say, causing them both to look up in surprise. I make a face at Mulder. “Nice line. Maybe I’ll use it sometime.”

He looks at me like I’m crazy. Which is pretty funny considering all the people who have thought he was crazy over the years. Most of all, my mother, in fact.

“How did you know …” Scully starts to ask, but her voice trails off. Like she’s afraid of the answer. She stops stirring the meat she’s browning and shakes her head. “There’s so much we don’t know about you.”

“You were always afraid of my powers.” I say the words, knowing they’ll bother her. I can’t seem to help it. I want to sabotage this. I want them to be scared of me and send me away. Because the more I stay here, the more I want to stay here. And if I stay, they’ll wind up dead.

Instead of freaking out, she nods. “I was. You’re right, William. I was afraid I wouldn’t know how to protect you.” She leaves her station and comes to me, grabbing both my hands. I guess it’s honesty time or something. “I need you to understand that I always wanted you. We just wanted to keep you safe.”

I nod. “I know. I heard you in the morgue, remember?”

Her face flushes. She’s embarrassed. But she nods. “Good. Then you understand.”

I don’t really, but I nod. How could I understand? So many pieces of this story make no sense to me. I’ve never had a child, but I would think that if I did, I would need to be the one to protect it. I would feel that was my responsibility. Why did these two think sending me off with strangers who were unprepared to deal with my powers would end any other way than my adoptive parents dead in a pool of their own blood?

It seems like they should have seen that coming.

“Are you thinking that we should have kept you with us? That it’s our fault your parents are dead?” Mulder speaks suddenly, and I have to wonder for a second if he was reading my mind.

I don’t answer his question.

“Would you like to take a shower? Get a fresh change of clothes?” Scully asks suddenly. “The bathroom is at the top of the stairs. Towels are in the linen closet. Get a change of clothes from our closet. Mulder has a few toward the back that don’t fit him anymore.”

“Hey, now,” Mulder says.

I go upstairs. I didn’t miss her words “our closet.” These two are seriously confused at the nature of their relationship. If I didn’t know they thought I was their son and she was pregnant with his child, I might suspect they were only partners. Friends. At least on the surface. Not within the privacy of their minds. Their minds are tangled up together like a ball of rubber bands.

After a hot shower, lots of soap and a change of clothes, I’m feeling almost human again. If you can call me human. I take my time upstairs, looking around. I take a good look around the bedroom that doesn’t look like it’s been used for anything except storage until very recently. Things have been moved off the bed and it looks slept in. I feel a little weird in there, like the room wants to tell me more intimate secrets than even their minds. I go on down the hall to the little bedroom at the end.

It’s storage now. But I can see the potential. It’ll make a great nursery.

I don’t belong here. I need to leave.


End file.
